


Ghost of Christmas Past

by Marshmellow Bobcat (MellowBobcat)



Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: A tale in 3 parts, AU, Christmas, Ghost!Lilly, Then New Years, Then? Whatever's next :), Veronica Mars Gift Exchange 2019, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21940921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MellowBobcat/pseuds/Marshmellow%20Bobcat
Summary: Dead or not, Lilly Kane knows what’s best for heir to the Echolls’ Department Store throne Logan Echolls. And that’s Santa’s Elf Veronica Mars.And after all these years hasn’t the boy learned not to doubt her by now?AU
Relationships: Logan Echolls/Veronica Mars
Comments: 83
Kudos: 113





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MrsKissyT](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsKissyT/gifts).



> Holiday Gift Exchange for MKT. It's been a pleasure getting to know you this year and I'm so happy I pulled your name in the exchange! 
> 
> As a bonus, this fic is paired with a [Fabulous Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/jjmazzy/playlist/3pAa0ISqs8zKC0gh2rgqjh?si=Y0ogYSEeScKy7jCj9jZa9g) from the incomparable JMazzy.

**December 1943, Echolls' Department Store**

The top floor of Echolls’ Department Store sparkles with holiday cheer. What is usually Santa’s Workshop, complete with the requisite cardboard North Pole and velvet red ropes to corral sticky children, has been cleared out and upgraded to a lavish party for the American soldiers stateside this holiday season. 

Ostensibly catered and hosted by the USO, the event is actually funded by Senior USO Hostess Celeste Kane, and begrudgingly decorated by Junior USO Hostess Lilly Kane—with perhaps a tad more mistletoe than appropriate. 

Now, with the party in full swing, Lilly admires her handiwork as she skirts around tables, moving through the throng of cheerful partygoers with practiced ease that speaks of good breeding and natural charm. A coy smile here, a light brush of the arm there, she mingles and flirts. All while discretely making her escape towards the exit sign. 

Taking a quick peek over her shoulder she slows her pace, making polite conversation as she passes. It wouldn’t do to make a scene and get spotted heading up to the roof, but she half-expected to find the illustrious department store owner himself, John Echolls, nipping at her heels.

At the ripe age of 50, he’s handsome enough, but Lilly doesn’t see the appeal. Not only does he have the bad taste to disassociate with his wonderfully famous father (dismissing the actor as “one of those theater people”) but he’s not used to hearing, or _listening to_ , the word no. 

Lilly has spent half the evening avoiding his creeping hands, sour breath, and blatant innuendos. She’s sure he must be catching whiffs of her gardenia and sandalwood perfume and scenting her out like a bloodhound. 

But instead of rolling up the proverbial newspaper, smacking his nose, and verbally eviscerating him, she has to play nice. Because _“He’s a friend of the family,”_ and _“USO Junior Hostesses have rules, Lilly.”_ Apparently smacking someone does not “boost morale.” 

She’s already had to dance with his wretched son. While attractive as well, he has a meanness behind his eyes that had her hurrying through the steps and taking her leave. 

She made the decision then and there to avoid the entire family, and make her great escape to the roof for at least an hour—despite Celeste’s edict to, _“Dance with everyone Lilly. No playing favorites.”_

But now, she doesn’t see either Echolls in the vicinity so Lilly grabs a Coke bottle from a nearby Hostess and gives the girl a considering once over. Junior Hostess Virginia Manning is as lovely as they come.Her modest, purple velvet dress sets off the brown of her eyes and accentuates the perpetually embarrassed blush of her cheeks. 

Lilly takes great pleasure in shocking her friend and making that blush deepen, and Celeste did say _“dance with everyone.”_

Amusingly, Virginia flushes as Lilly stares, but Lilly lets the impulse go and resumes her meandering towards the exit. 

Celeste also said, “ _Only dance with the men, Lilly. None of that obscene dancing with your friends.”_

Personally, she thinks a little show would do more for the war effort than a vat of cold soup, but Virginia is too much of an innocent anyway and it’s not worth the argument later. She has to pick her battles.

Finally, Lilly reaches the door, but as she moves to go through it, a man steps in her path. Lilly appraises him. He’s tall, dark, and fills out his perfectly pressed uniform rather nicely. He’d make an excellent hostage in her escape.

Raising her Coke bottle to her mouth, she touches her tongue to the straw, before slowly closing her lips around the tip and taking a sip. The man’s gaze darkens. Lilly tilts her chin up, the motion allowing her hair to cascade off her shoulder, revealing the smooth column of her neck. 

_“No fraternizing, Lilly.”_

No fraternizing has to be the most absurd rule the USO has. It’s a party, it’s expected. But she’s vowed to follow the rules, at least overtly, until she’s 25 and her inheritance kicks in. She can’t let a pretty face distract her from her goal. 

Lilly shakes her head at the man, softening the blow with a wink and a squeeze of his bicep, as she glides through the door into the stairwell. 

At the bottom of the stairs, she uses the wall for support and reaches under her skirt, searching for the lacey edge of her garter. 

Feeling the cool metal hidden there, she gives a triumphant tug, pulling her flask free.

“ _No alcohol, Lilly.”_

Well, even Celeste couldn’t keep a straight face at that decree. In fact, she’d handed Lilly the glass flask with sterling silver floral overlay with orders to “a _t least have the good sense to hide it.”_

Smoothing her skirt in place, Lilly flips open the flask cap and ascends the stairs, chugging down some of Loch Nevin’s finest single malt as she climbs up to the roof.

Lilly pushes through the large metal door, notes that the latch has been taped down and lets it swing shut behind her. Fire safety takes a backseat to nicotine withdrawal these days, and she wholeheartedly approves. 

The fact that the men are allowed to smoke but the woman are not simply galls her, and she takes great pleasure in flouting that ridiculous double standard. 

Removing a Lucky Strike and a pack of matches from her brassiere she sets the cigarette ablaze and draws the smoke in deep, calming her as she crunches across the graveled floor to the roof’s ledge and gazes out over Neptune, trying to take it all in.

There’s so much. So much out there that she can’t see. Can’t touch from her gilded bubble. And still, she craves more. Within every cell of her body lies the certainty that she was destined for greatness, maybe infamy. 

It’s true that the war opened a lot of options for women, and she’s happy for them. Let them rivet and assemble until their hearts are content. But she’s not interested in work. And she’s not interested in marriage, yet. 

She plans to travel the continent with a long string of lovers. Cruise the Mediterranean while they feed her champagne and rub her feet. 

Then one day, when she’s too old for fun, she’ll marry and have children of her own. Every day she’ll take them on new adventures, show them all life’s pleasures, and every night before bed she’ll kiss their foreheads and remind them, _rules are meant to be broken, my darlings_.

Six years. Six years and she receives her inheritance free and clear. What’s six years to Lilly? Her story is going to be epic.

The roof’s door opens behind her, startling her out of her thoughts. 

She quickly flicks the cigarette over the ledge and eases behind a large maintenance fan. She’s hoping for a couple of rebels out for a naughty tryst, the entertainment would do her a world of good, but it’s probably another Junior Hostess escaping for a smoke. 

Either way, from the red satin of her dress to the light in her eyes, Lilly Kane doesn’t exactly blend—she sparkles. Better to wait out the interruption. 

A smooth baritone followed by a high-pitched giggle fill the air and Lilly perks up. The beginning of a little slap and tickle if she’s ever heard it. 

Grinning, she inches around the fan for a peek, but freezes, heart clenched, as the sound of ripping fabric tears through the air. 

That high-pitched laugh comes again, but this time Lilly recognizes the wild edge to it, the desperation under it. 

She firmly believes that women should be free to do what they like with their bodies—God knows she has—but it’s their choice. Always. 

Slugging back the remaining whiskey, she tucks the flask into a corner and strolls out of hiding. 

And is met by the sight of John Echolls, back to her, as he grips a woman’s shoulder in one hand and runs his grubby little fingers over her now bare arm, in what he’s probably thinks is a soothing motion. 

Lilly can’t see her face, but she spots the purple velvet fabric pooled at the girls wrist and her blood boils. 

“Virginia Manning!” Lilly barks with authority.

Mr. Echolls drops his hand and whirls around, while Virginia steps around him, eyes watery and wide.

“Yes, Miss Kane?” Virginia does an odd bob curtsy mix and Lilly refrains from laughing. 

Virginia’s a sweet girl, but she’s on the young side of 18, easily cowed by the soon-to-be infamous Lilly Kane.

“Shouldn’t you be organizing the dessert course?” Lilly questions, hazarding a guess on the time. Mr. Echolls eyes narrow.

Virginia grasps the excuse with obvious relief, inching around an increasingly fuming Mr. Echolls, then scampers through the door. 

It echos as it bangs shut and Mr. Echolls’ look shifts as he assesses Lilly’s form, lingering on her cleavage. 

Lilly violently pulls another cigarette from her brassiere to occupy her hands so she doesn’t slap one of her mother’s oldest friends. 

Lighting it, she pushes the anger down and moves to perch on the roof’s ledge facing Mr. Echolls. 

“Nice night,” she offers conversationally. 

_Let it go, Johnny boy_ , her mind urges. _Laugh it off, walk away._

“Could be nicer,” he responds suggestively as he sidles closer. 

_Or_ , she gives a mental shrug, _push your luck_. Friend of the family or not, the man is a dog, and deserves to be put down like one. 

She lets out a glittering laugh. “I’m going to stop you right there. We don’t want your wife getting wind of your proclivities, do we?”

Mr. Echolls smiles in return. “Oh, I’m not worried,” he replies, probably going for casual but she registers the sharpness underneath. 

_Imagine, being threatened by the likes of her_. She smirks around another pull of smoke. 

“My wife won’t believe a word out of your whore mouth,” he adds. 

Lilly raises a perfectly sculpted brow. _No, not worried. But definitely pissed_. She ashes her cigarette. 

“No, maybe not. But she’d believe Virginia Manning, wouldn’t she? Nice girls like that don’t tell tales.” 

“That little tease won’t open her mouth.” 

And with that, the game is over. How dare he. How dare he slur her friend in that confident, dismissive tone. 

She remembers the fear in Virginia’s eyes, thinks further back to the faint finger-shaped bruises on Mrs. Echolls’ jaw that the finest makeup couldn’t cover. And makes a decision. 

She ashes again casually, the picture of indifference. 

“It might interest you to know that the Gants are downstairs.” Tilting her head she adds lightly, “They’re always looking for a good story.” 

Mr. Echolls stalks towards her. “And what would that story say, missy?” 

“Can’t you see the headlines now?” She sweeps a hand through the air, “Son of a theater star caught philandering.’”

John’s face reddens as he looms over her. So close she has to lean back to see his face.

“Not to your liking? How about ‘Son of a theater star threatens young debutante’?” 

His eyes narrow and his hands fist at his sides. But Lilly’s not done pushing this asshole’s buttons. 

“I’ve got it.” She snaps her fingers. “‘Son of a movie star beats wife’.” 

With a flourish she throws her cigarette over her shoulder, satisfied with the rage on his face. 

Suddenly, a hard shove her sends her to the middle of the thick stone. 

Shocked, she reaches for him and their eyes meet. Cold fear spikes through her at the calm she reads there. 

Another shove and she’s sailing over the ledge, the ground rushing up to meet her, and everything goes black.

* * *

**December 2008, Echolls' Department Store:**

**24 Days Until Christmas**

Santa’s Elf Veronica Mars’ curled toes jingle as she rocks around the plastic Christmas tree to the Echolls Department Store sound system, consciously tempering her movements so nothing pops out of this year’s elf uniform. Santa’s Workshop is a large open space and she'd rather not flash the children. Or the parents, for that matter. 

When she’d been fitted for her uniform she naturally assumed there’d be more of it, but if they weren’t in southern California she’d be freezing her ass off. Mr. Echolls must be getting senile. And in his fifties too, such a shame. After three years as an Elf Veronica has witnessed enough to feel confident in saying it couldn’t happen to a nicer person. Mister ‘Call me Aaron, sweetheart’ Echolls creeps her out and the uniform was almost the last straw.

The only thing that curbed Veronica’s resolve to look for alternative holiday employment was a heartfelt plea from her manager and the extra five bucks an hour raise Mrs. Navarro promised her. And the fact that Mr. Echolls slipped on the wet floor between the workshop and main office and fell down that escalator. Rumor has it he broke his leg in two places. 

And so, today at exactly 10:01am Veronica throws the intricately carved doors to the shop open and takes a practiced hop to the left, pressing herself against the stock room door as streams of parents and children enter. In the door frame she freezes under the fanciful “Doll Hospital” sign and hopes to be taken for scenery. 

_Nothing to see here, just a scantily clad elf with absolutely no idea how long the wait is for Santa._

Fortunately, the crowd flows past her prone form, down the plush red carpet at the center of the room and queues between the velvet ropes, anxious to get to the wide, green throne where Santa sits. It’s the big draw for the kids: sit next to the big man himself, confess your deepest desires, snag a picture for your parents.

And if Santa is less than accommodating, the perimeter of the shop is lined with shelves full of toys enticing the children: touch me, break me, buy me. 

When the crowd passes, Veronica ducks into the ‘doll hospital’ and retrieves a box of stuffed purple teddy bears. She sneaks back out and remains in her corner, focusing on stocking the row of shelves between the stock room and the—wisely—undisguised bathroom while she dreams of a white Christmas. 

The music is a definite plus to the gig. 

It underscores the manic buzz of children, and—despite the too-short flouncy skirt, the too-low square cut top, and the damned bells on her shoes—Veronica takes a moment to appreciate the most wonderful time of the year.

And receives a face full of purple fur for her trouble as a sticky, screaming toddler pushes her in the back of the knees, knocking her into the shelves, as he zooms past her screaming. She probably could have caught herself if her hands didn’t fly to the ridiculous skirt to hold it down.

The child’s harried parents scurry after him without a word of apology. 

“Merry Christmas,” she calls after them plucking purple fur from her mouth, and hopes the ‘asshole’ is implied. 

She scans the room and catches Jackie Cook’s amused gaze across the shop. Veronica jerks her head at the door to the roof. It’s 10:30, time for a break. 

Jackie grins, giving her a thumbs up and points towards Mrs. Navarro, indicating that she’ll tell their manager that they’re taking their fifteen. 

Veronica thumbs up back and shoves the rest of the bears onto the shelf and marches the empty box to the sales counter—which is camouflaged as a hot chocolate and cookies station this year. She hides the former teddy bear abode under the register then meets Jackie in the stairwell. Together the two climb the flight of stairs in silence. 

At the roof door, Jackie checks the latch, satisfied that it’s taped down as always. The entire workshop uses the roof as a breakroom, even Santa.

Yesterday, some diligent elves arranged four gray metal chairs facing the skyline. Veronica isn’t a huge fan of the set up, she doesn’t like having her back to the door, but it doesn’t bother her enough to move the chairs or the cooler that lies between them. 

Veronica sinks into the leftmost chair, bypassing the drinks in favor of tipping her head back to bask in the sun. Might as well since the costume is more revealing than her bathing suit. Jackie produces a cigarette from somewhere within the scant material of her costume and lights up. Knowing her feelings, she takes the furthest seat from Veronica. 

“That’s a disgusting habit, you know,” Veronica informs Jackie anyway.

“I know. Can’t seem to help it,” Jackie replies easily, sucking in a deep pull of smoke and falling silent as she stares out at the skyline. 

Veronica tugs at her bottom lip. She hasn’t known Jackie very long but their sarcastic natures and mutual love of fifteen minute breaks made them fast friends. 

Their conversations flow easily, despite—or maybe because—they’re relative strangers. Which is why Jackie knows all about her dad’s new girlfriend, that Keith insists be included as part of the holidays. And why Veronica knows that Jackie’s baseball hall-of-famer father gambled away the last of their fortune two years ago. 

The Cooks fired the staff, sold off all of the cars, but managed to keep the house and the appearance of wealth. That faded when Jackie’s son Alex moved in with them. Now, during the school year Jackie serves lunch at Pan High, Veronica's high school Alma Mater. She also works in the bridal department at Echolls’ during peak wedding season, then moves over to Santa’s Workshop once December hits. 

And she’s the most immovable person Veronica has ever seen, not counting the one in the mirror, of course. 

“Jackie,” Veronica leans on her elbows towards her fellow elf. “You know Alex doesn’t need to go to Disneyland, right? He’ll be happy opening anything on Christmas morning as long as you’re with him.” 

She’s 20 and she still hasn’t been to Disneyland, and she’s fine. 

Jackie inhales on her cigarette and narrows her eyes. “They made fun of him at school, Veronica.” 

_God, she hates Neptune._ Veronica resumes her relaxed position in her seat. “So...did you save enough yet?” 

“I’m close. I’ve got the tickets and the flight. A little more and I’ll have enough for the hotel.” Jackie lets out a smoky breath. “Lilly helped.” 

_Here we go._ Veronica rolls her eyes. 

“No, it’s true!” Jackie insists. “Remember when I told you about the Trina Echolls debacle?”

“Of course.” Hard to forget that one. 

Last May, Jackie had the unfortunate assignment of bridal consultant for the demanding diva. By the end of the appointment Trina was bellowing about big mistakes and quoting Pretty Woman. Meanwhile, Jackie ended up with a written warning and no commission for the $15,000 sale. 

“Lynn Echolls got wind of it and she wrote me a personal check to make up for Trina. She called it ‘hazard pay!’” Jackie finishes gleefully. 

“And how was that the ghost of Lilly Kane?” 

“Veronica, how do you think Mrs. Echolls found out about Trina? Lilly told her!” 

Or, most likely, Mrs. Navarro did. But Jackie seems so enthralled with the notion that Veronica leaves it, closing her eyes again.

The ghost of Lilly Kane _is_ a popular myth among Echolls employees, and it has a basis in truth. A young woman died falling off the store roof in 1943. 

By all accounts wild child Lilly Kane left her party hostessing duties for a jaunt on the roof with a bottle of whiskey and pilfered cigarettes. No one knows how long she was up there before John Echolls, the store’s founder, went up for a smoke and found the young woman weaving and dancing on the ledge. 

He tried to save her, of course, but she tragically fell to her death before he could reach her.

From there, the legend of Lilly Kane took on a life of its own. They even mention the former beauty in employee training. Though in Veronica’s opinion she’s simply an easy excuse for staff error. Veronica highly doubts Lilly Kane is haunting the shoe department after Labor Day just to hide all the white shoes. 

Jackie reads the doubt on her face and slides over to poke her. “Come on, I bet Lilly talks to the entire Echolls family. She must love them since John Echolls tired to save her.” 

“Hey!” Veronica gives her bump with shoulder, holding the low square neck of her elf costume to her chest so she doesn’t give her a show as well. 

“You know it’s true.”

She doesn't. But she does know more than she should, damn her pesky curiosity and impressive research skills. 

The records of Lilly Kane’s death are the same: Lilly Kane, drunken debutante. John Echolls, attempted hero. But one small blurb in the fledgling Gant Daily Press painted a much darker picture. That newspaper reported a nameless witness suggesting that Lilly Kane was the hero that tragic night and John Echolls the villain. 

The Gant Daily Press went under a month later, and the Gants moved on to book publishing, specializing in fiction. Nothing else contradicts the well-publicized version, but Veronica knows in her bones that the blurb is true. But what’s the point now? 

So all she says is, “Sure, Jackie.”

Veronica sits up abruptly, interrupting Jackie’s grumbling. “Do you smell that?” 

“God Veronica, go stand over there if it bothers you.” Jackie gestures to the far end of the roof with her cigarette. 

“Not that. It’s like gardenias and....” She can’t quite place it but it’s strong. 

The smoking Ghost Whisperer looks at Veronica like _she’s_ the crazy one. 

“Nevermind.” It’s gone now. 

* * *

_Sulking, Lilly Kane floats through the roof door back down to Santa’s Workshop. She would bang the door shut, but it’s not worth the energy. It’s not like she’s Tinkerbell, she doesn’t want anyone to clap for her or anything, but would a little recognition kill Veronica?_

_After all she’s done. Her plan was perhaps a little impulsive. She needed Logan in the store and when Lilly hastily removed the “Wet Floor” sign in front of the escalator she thought Aaron would slip and get a mild concussion or something. How was she supposed to know he’d fall the entire length of the track and break his leg in two places?_

_As a result, Logan took over the daily management of the store through the New Year, which works perfectly. She needs him in the store, he rarely goes home these days and that’s the only other place she can go._

_When she first arose from her body, after the initial confusion, she tried to get someone’s attention, to no avail. She stood helpless as her body was found, as her father screamed and her mother sobbed. And, logically, she tried to follow John Echolls, and found she couldn’t go any farther than the street where she fell. But then John Echolls died. Her murderer. The man who got away with it all._

_The second his body gave, she was pulled to his side. When his spirit rose up, he saw her. Finally._

_The terror that crossed his face, the scream he rent as he was sucked down somewhere, the realization that he had not escaped all his sins, filled her with a warmth she hadn’t felt in fifty one years. Peace engulfed her, and she was ready to give over to it when she heard the sound of a woman cry out._

_She almost let the noise go, almost let the calmness wash over her and take her away. But her damn curiosity overtook her. Let it never be said that Lilly Kane ignored a woman in need._

_She searched for the sound, and found the cause of the commotion a few doors down. Aaron, Lynn, and a six year old Logan stood at odds in the parlor. She knew of the boy, of course. Aaron had taken great pride in parading his young son around the store._

_As Lilly did with Aaron, and his father before, she dismissed the baby initially, expecting him to be the same as all the others. But how could she dismiss a six year old who taunts his volatile father, clearly trying to turn the asshole’s attention away from Lynn?_

_Logan got a belt to the back for his trouble, and Lilly discovered the ability to smash vases. From then on she could utilize any strong emotion to move objects. She restrains herself from causing any serious harm, she saw John’s face before he disappeared and has no wish to follow wherever he went, but it has been useful._

_Her horror allowed her to shred all the belts in the house. When Logan was nine Lilly’s pure rage allowed her to pop pears in front of Aaron everywhere he went. His gym locker, his office, his mistress's bed. Between Lynn’s cheese knife and Lilly’s relentlessness he never touched Logan again. Logan, who taught her that her softer emotions were also useful as she brushed his hair back from his face while he slept._

_He’s grown so much since then, but when Lilly looks at him she still sees the precocious little boy, guarded and wild, with a protective streak a mile wide and sad eyes. It’s the eyes that kill her._

_So lost. So busy covering with bravado that he doesn’t know how lonely he is. What he needs is someone else who will support him. A partner._

_But the poor boy’s love life has been dismal these days, and Lilly is going to have to step in. Lucky boy, she has the perfect Christmas present for him, and her name is Veronica Mars._

* * *

**23 Days Until Christmas**

Logan Echolls takes the escalator up to Santa’s Workshop with Cindy “Mac” Mackenzie at his side. 

For his mother’s sake, he said he would take over the store instead of going to Aspen for Hearst’s winter break, but he refused to have his father’s assistant following him around. His father dumped her a couple of weeks ago and Kendall seems to think Logan is her consolation prize. 

He relegated her to the front office and avoids it at every opportunity.

Lucky for him, Mac needed extra cash this holiday season and she found the notion of watching him work amusing enough to help out. When they were first partnered for a class he was weary, but, in a rare turn of events, she wasn’t interested and they quickly became friends. 

Now, as she strides through the doors of Santa’s Workshop with him, he can’t help but be desperately grateful for her presence as they enter absolute chaos. 

Parents corral crying children away from two men, who are circling each other in what seems to be an attempt to fight. They’re just not very good at it. No one is landing any punches. Usually when people fight they hit each other. This is more like dancing, with two men spinning around. 

Logan kneads his temples with his thumb and forefinger. Why are there so many men in line this year? Usually Santa’s Workshop has a more female crowd. Females who do not fight for God knows what reason in the middle of a children’s event.

Maybe they’ll tire themselves out.

“Mac?”

“Yes, Mr. Echolls?”

“Don’t call me that.” He reminds her. again.

She sends him a wicked grin in response. 

“Give the parents vouchers for free hot chocolate and cookies.” 

Mac looks at the hoard of visibly angry parents. Not angry enough to _help_ , but still, visibly angry. 

“Money? You think that’ll fix this?” she asks. 

“Doesn’t it always?”

“Cynic.” 

Logan shrugs. He’s a realist. It always comes down to money, and he’s always going to have to go around cleaning up someone else’s mess. At least this time it’s not Aaron’s latest affair. He’ll take a fist fight any day of the week over seeing the wounded look in his mother’s eyes. 

This particular mess is already resolving itself, quickly moving away from the kids to the far wall. With a little luck, maybe they’ll get close enough for Logan to open the door and sweep them out into the stairwell.

The roof door swings open and two scantily clad elves appear. The women freeze, their backs pressed to the door, as the men scrimmage in front of them. 

One of the women is Jackie Cook. He recognizes her from high school, though they rarely spoke.

The other woman he’s never seen before, but she’s pretty enough. He likes blondes and the outfit is really working for him.

Logan tilts his head to Mac. “Who shopped the Playboy catalog for the elf costumes this year?”

“You did.” Mac answers dryly. 

Ah, that’s right. His last effort to remind his father that he has no interest in the family business. Well, judging from the amount of testosterone in the room, it inspired quality paternal time, a rarity in Neptune.

“You know,” Mac continues, “I could set you up. My roommate Parker--”

“No.” 

Parker is sweet, eager, fun. But so are puppies and he doesn’t want one of those either. 

“Fine, don’t be surprised when you find a cat in your stocking this year.” 

“Funny.” He's got a few years yet before cat lady status. And he likes cats. It could be worse.

He winces as the fight moves closer to the elves in the doorway. “Alright, I’m going in.” 

It all happens so fast he barely registers all the details. 

As Logan steps towards the men, Jackie starts to creep around the fight, hugging the toy shelves on the perimeter. The blonde elf attempts to follow, but before she gets anywhere one of the men trips, catching Jackie’s ankle on his way down. 

She waivers, twisting to brace herself on a shelf, but her skirt flounces up and she hastily covers her bottom. Jackie’s temple raps on the metal and she falls, hitting the floor. Hard. 

Everything stops, shock rippling through the crowd. It doesn’t stop the fight, as the men continue to grapple on the floor now. At least they’re scoring hits now.

Jackie touches her head carefully, and it comes away with a dash of blood. 

_Shit._ Lilly isn’t going to like that. She’s fond of Jackie.

The blonde elf _growls._ Logan can hear it from where he’s standing. Feels it vibrate through his body. Before anyone can stop her she’s marching towards the men. Despite her small stature she seems six feet tall, face glowing with rage. 

He stares, transfixed, completely wrapped up in her movements. Did he think she was merely pretty? She’s stunning. 

Everyone else stands idle, and she approaches men three—he assess her again—four times her size. 

When she reaches them, she tilts her head in consideration. Then lifts a curled-toed, jingle-belled heel and slams it down onto the hand of the uppermost man. 

“Ouch!” He howls and sits up quickly cradling his injured fingers. Both fighters eye the tiny blonde attacker in confusion. 

She doesn’t blink, instead points a finger and orders firmly, “Stay.” 

Logan swears he hears her add, “good boys” under her breath as she walks back to Jackie and crouches down next to her. 

_Fuck_ . Lilly would like that, hell, _he_ likes that, but his father won’t. 

Two brave men break away from the crowd and stand guard over the now inactive, dazed, men. 

Fantastic. So very helpful.

Glancing at Mac, he instructs, “Call security.” 

“Probably should have tried that first,” she deadpans. 

“Shut it.” 

He walks over to the elves. Jackie sits up against the shelves, while her friend talks quietly to her. 

“You okay, Jackie?” He asks, but he only has eyes for the tiny warrior elf. He pretends not to hear Jackie’s snort as he reaches down to help the blonde elf up. 

She glances briefly at Jackie, who waves her on from the floor, then places a delicate hand in his. 

He tugs her up to him and he feels a tingle dance along his skin from their joined palms. 

Then their eyes meet. It’s one of those moments in life, the kind that should be totally benign, but he knows is important. 

A shift in the wind, instant acknowledgement. _There you are. Where have you been?_

“Do you hear that?” She whispers, shifting closer.

“What?” He asks through the haze. All he hears is his life changing. “I don’t hear—” 

Then it reaches him. The soft giggle that somehow manages to be girlish and sensual; carefree and knowing. _Lilly._

He should have known. 

Jackie, now upright, interrupts cheerfully. “Hi, Logan.” 

He examines Jackie as he nods to her in greeting, noting the small cut on her head and the smirk on her face. 

“It’s Mr. Echolls now,” Mac informs them loftily as she joins the group. Then she grins. “Hey, Jackie.”

Logan elbows Mac. Mr. Echolls is his father. Or worse, his grandfather. Or worse than that, his great grandfather. God, he hates his family. 

“Ahem.” The blonde clears her throat, looking down at his hand and, flushing, he realizes that he hasn’t let go. 

He drops it quickly and ignores the ridiculous gut punch of loss. “Sorry.” 

Jackie laughs and helpfully begins introductions. “Logan—I’m not calling you Mr. Echolls.” 

“Please don’t.” he begs and Mac giggles. “You can both call me Logan.” 

“Okay, Logan this is Veronica. Veronica, meet Logan and Mac. We all went to high school together.” 

Veronica gives a little wave with her newly liberated hand.

“So, um, am I fired?”

“Fired?”

“Yes, fired. Let go. ” 

Let go? He just found her. He’s going to marry her. And buy her ten more of those little elf outfits as a wedding gift. 

At his silence, Veronica frowns and steps back.

Logan feels a hard kick on his left buttock. Hard enough to leave an imprint of what he knows will be a round-toed, t-strapped shoe. 

“Cut it out, Lilly,” he mutters under his breath.

Jackie sucks in a low gasp and whispers, “I knew it,” under her breath. 

Veronica’s frown deepens. “Mr. Echolls? Uh, Logan?”

“Sorry. No, of course you’re not fired. In fact,” he adds, holding up a finger, “I think you both deserve a reward.”

Her eyes narrow at him suspiciously, and he smiles his most charming smile. “How about a Christmas bonus?” He adds an eyebrow bob for good measure. 

That distracts her. She glances at Jackie then thrusts a hand at him. 

“It’s a deal,” Veronica agrees, shaking on it. 

“Jackie,” he doesn’t take his eyes off Veronica, “you should get that head looked at and send us the doctor’s bill. If workmans comp doesn’t cover it, Echolls‘ will. Mac can cover the rest of your shift.” 

“No, Mac cannot.” Mac replies. “But she will call someone in.”

“Good, fine.” He doesn’t actually care about staffing issues right now. “Then the four of us can celebrate your bravery by having dinner tonight, on me.” 

“We’d like that.” Jackie accepts quickly. Veronica merely quirks a brow. 

“Mr. Echolls. You have a meeting in five.” Mac pipes up, scrolling through his calendar on her phone.

Logan groans and Veronica’s lips curve at his distress. His warrior elf has a sadistic streak. Turns out a lot of things about her are working for him. 

“Thank you, _Cindy_.” He says pointedly to Mac, who wrinkles her nose at him.

Looking back at Veronica he implores, “I’ll see you tonight?” 

“I could eat.” Veronica says it casually but there’s an intense curiosity behind her eyes that causes his grin to spread. 

“Tonight,” he repeats. Then spins away, gesturing for Mac to follow, barely refraining from skipping. 

* * *

_Tonight._ The word has been echoing in Veronica's mind all day. If this were a musical she’s sure she’d be singing it by now, giddily twirling in a dreamy nightgown. But she’s not in a musical, she’s Veronica Mars: suspicious from birth, cynical from life, and all she feels is vaguely nauseous. 

She likes him. Like, _like_ likes him. God. How high school does that sound? 

She can’t go around liking Neptune people. Not only are they the worst, but on the off chance he’s not annoying like that floppy haired kid that she met at the coffee shop last week, or gross like the platinum blonde surfer dude that hit on her the other day, she doesn’t live here. Her parents couldn’t make a relationship work living in the same house, how could she do it from miles away?

But he had this way of turning his full attention on a person, on _her,_ that makes her feel like no one else matters and he’d walk through fire for her. And she wants to know more. It’s that damned curiosity. 

So now here she is, closing up the shop. Meeting Logan, who she _like-likes,_ alone. Because Jackie and Mac both bowed out of dinner, citing a head injury and errands respectively. The dirty liars. 

“It’s fine,” she mutters to herself as she shoves the key in the lock. Cancelling would be more weird. This is what people do. They eat. It’s not like it’s a date. 

She pauses in the hallway between Santa’s Workshop and the main office and assess her reflection in frosted glass door. It does not inspire confidence. 

Despite the reassurances she got from last month’s Cosmo, the tapered jeans have not, in fact, made her appear taller. The waist length motorcycle jacket is more pleather than leather, and the ugly Christmas sweater with the alpaca on it seemed funny this morning. Tonight, it makes her reconsider wearing her elf uniform. 

She hugs her saving grace, the black quilted Chanel tote bag, to herself. She’d been furious last year when she found her favorite messenger bag torn after her shift. Resigned to poverty, when the only bag in the store that fit all of her belongings was a sleek Chanel tote. Relieved when it rang up discounted to a surprising one hundred dollars. 

Now, it’s the only thing that doesn’t make her feel hopelessly outclassed. 

Which is absurd. It’s. Not. A. Date. It doesn’t matter. 

With that, she crosses to the main office and enters the vestibule. The room is well-lit with a large desk off to the right and a person typing diligently, obscured by the large screen. The hallway leading to offices behind the desk is dark. 

“Hello?” 

The typing stops and a woman rolls her office chair away from the computer. Kendall. The buxom assistant who follows Mr. Echolls around the store. 

Kendall, who usually looks _through_ the other employees from her high horse, scans Veronica from head to toe, pausing on the alpaca and her lip curls. “Can I help you?”

Veronica draws herself up. It’s not that bad. And alpacas are cute. “Yeah, I’m here for Logan.” 

“Do you have an appointment?” 

_It’s not an appointment, per se. It’s...a loose plan. A plan that’s not a date. A meeting?_

Veronica settles on, “He’s expecting me,” and lets Kendall make of that what she will. 

“Ah. You must be Vivian. Logan mentioned you’d be coming by.” Kendall plucks an envelope from the pile in front of her and strolls out from around the desk.

“I must say,” she perches on the lip of her desk, crossing long tanned legs in front of her. “You’re not what I expected.” 

“What did you expect?” Veronica bristles, not bothering to correct the name.

Kendall shrugs carelessly. “I thought you’d be taller.” 

_Don’t punch the woman who prances behind the store’s owner like a pampered Yorkie, Veronica._

“Is Logan here or not?”

“Not. Something more important came up.” Her smile is feline as she runs a hand down her hip. 

“He asked me to give you this.” She holds out the envelope to Veronica. 

Veronica takes it and turns to leave, her stomach like lead. 

“Some advice?” Kendall purrs.

Veronica’s fingers tighten on the envelope, crushing it in her fist. She schools her features and pivots back to Kendall with an expressionless stare. 

“Yes?”

“If you hold out longer you’ll get some good jewelry out of it.” Kendall fingers the large diamond pendant nestled between her ample breasts. “ _Mr. Echolls_ can be very generous.” 

The moniker sounds dirty coming from her lips, and her eyes implore Veronica to pursue it further. 

_Do not engage, you already accosted someone today._

“Thanks for the tip.” Veronica clenches her jaw to keep from saying more. 

“You’re so very welcome. I don’t mind sharing, in fact, it could be fun.”

Veronica doesn't respond to the innuendo and Kendall smirks. “I'll be sure to let Mr. Echolls know you picked up your check.” 

“You do that.” Veronica seethes through her teeth and stalks out. 

Her body is vibrating from the exertion of holding herself in check, and she calms herself before opening the envelope. 

It’s a check. He spelled her name right and everything. Asshole. 

What was she thinking, starting a flirtation with Logan Echolls? He’s an Echolls after all, and in her experience, apples rarely stray far from the tree. 

* * *

**14 Days Until Christmas**

_Lilly blows down the hall of the main office, pausing on her way out to loudly kick Kendall’s trash can._

_“Cut it out!” Logan yells from his office._

_Lilly knows he’s talking to her but Kendall is stupid, so she calls back, “Sorry.”_

_Lilly feels no remorse as the confused woman scurries to pick up the mess. As far as Lilly’s concerned Kendall can climb in with the rest of the trash and call it home._

_Lilly has more important things to do, like search for Veronica._

_She passes through the door of the workshop still stewing over Logan’s brush off._

_Veronica isn’t in the shop, so Lilly heads to the roof looking for the stubborn, stupid…_

_Lilly expected some initial resistance from Veronica. Nothing brings out true colors like working retail at Christmas and over the last three years she’s seen Veronica’s fiery side, her hardened cynicism, her marshmallow core. And her bone-deep stubbornness._

_But Logan’s resistance truly shocked her. She knew they were perfect for each other, but this is ridiculous. She thought he would at least try to figure out why Veronica runs in the opposite direction whenever she sees him. But no… “If she’s not interested, she’s not interested.”_

_Translation: I’m scared._

_So Lilly pushed. And received a clipped, “I’m not my father, Lilly.” Before he turned his back on her._

_He’s one of three people who can see her—one of two people she deigns to reveal herself to—and he turned his back on her. He may not be Aaron but if he doesn’t stop dismissing her she’s going to stick her tasteful, expensive Mary Jane shoe right up his bottom._

_Veronica’s not on the roof, so Lilly checks the stockroom, popping her head through the door and spotting Veronica and Jackie comparing the boxes on the shelves against a clipboard._

_“Let it go, Jackie.”_

_This sounds promising. Lilly floats the rest of her body through the door._

_“You have to go. It’s the company party, it’s expected,” Jackie insists, not bothering to pretend to take inventory._

_“Nope. Not doing it.”_

_Lilly’s annoyance shifts to amusement as Veronica makes a show of examining the shelves and exaggerating a check mark on her list._

_Veronica hides it better but she loves drama as much as Logan._

_Idiots._

_Jackie deliberately puts her back to the shelves. “You promised Mrs. Navarro you’d bring dessert.”_

_“I’ll drop it off.”_

_“Veronica. Mac said he had a family meet—”_

_“I don’t want to hear it.” Veronica cuts her off with a wave of the hand. “I’ll go to the party, but I’m not staying long.”_

_We’ll just see about that_ , _Lilly scoffs._

_Veronica refuses to talk about it so Lilly has no idea what happened to make her turn so thoroughly from Logan, but nobody can resist her boy for long._

_Even if she has to wrap her in a bow and stick her under Logan’s Christmas tree herself._

* * *

**7 Days Until Christmas**

Logan circulates Santa’s Workshop, the grand location of the annual Echolls' Department Store Holiday Party, and surreptitiously looks for Lilly—whether to avoid her or talk to her, he’s still not sure. At the very least he’s hoping the 1940’s theme will distract her.

When he was six he thought being haunted sounded so cool, his very own Casper. They’d traipsed around the house having grand adventures while she figured out how to move things.

When he was nine he found out that Lilly kept her promises. Always. 

When he was twelve, he had the uncomfortable realization that his transparent protector was hot with zero regard for locked doors. 

At seventeen, he generously decided to help her cross over. She caught him and smacked him over the head with the Ouija board.

Now at twenty, he’s grateful to her, loves her. Even if she will. not. stop. nagging him. 

_Look, there’s the subject in question now, innocently standing by the front doors_. He’s surprised she’s not a puff of smoke already. 

She must not have seen him. 

Snagging his dutiful assistant by the sleeve, he whispers to Mac, “Some cover?” 

Mac eyes him and, sipping on her cup of good cheer, raises a suspicious brow. She follows his gaze to Veronica and gives him one last penetrating look. Then with a sigh, walks towards Veronica. 

The best thing about being friends with Mac is, she knows him well enough not to protest, and loves him enough to go along with his schemes. He may have been born into a shitty family situation, but he’s cultivated a better one for himself over time. 

Grabbing a napkin, he scoops up a bunch of cookies and a bottle of champagne and waits until Mac engages Veronica in what looks to be stilted conversation, before slipping up to the roof. 

Out of habit, he checks the cooler and makes a mental note to refill it tomorrow. He pops open the champagne and sips from the bottle in between bites of snickerdoodles. It takes all of ten minutes before the smell of gardenia and sandalwood permeates the air. 

He takes a swig from the champagne bottle. “Are you here to yell at me some more?”

Lilly materializes in the chair next to him, flawlessly beautiful with large green eyes that to his mind always seem misty. 

She flicks a golden curl over her shoulder. “Are you going to get your head out of your ass?” 

“She’s not interested, Lilly.” 

“You’re wrong.” 

He glares at her. 

“You’re wrong, Logan. Something happened, and I have deadly intuition, don’t forget.” 

“I hate when you joke about that,” he murmurs, but looks away. 

As usual, she reads his cues like a book. “I knew it! What happened?”

He turns back to her but keeps his mouth stubbornly shut.

“Oh, no, you don’t. Spill it. Now.” 

He remains silent and she snatches his pile of cookies and tosses them off the roof. 

“Lilly!” He hugs the champagne to his chest as a precautionary measure. “I was going to figure out which employee brought those and give the recipe to the cook.” 

Lilly gives him a pitying look. “You’re an idiot, and by the way, potlucks are for poor people, Logan. Now _tell me what happened.”_

She’s going to nag him for the rest of his natural born life. And the worst part is, if he dies she might find him and keep nagging him until he tells her. 

“Okay, fine. I wrote her a note. And she made it perfectly clear she was _not interested,”_ he stresses, matching her tone. 

He definitely said more than he should have in that note. It would be one thing if the language was simply flowery, but it was worse than that. It was honest.

Lilly’s eyes widen in understanding then narrow into slits, glittering dangerously. “Oh, she did, did she? Tell me.” 

“When Dad called the family meeting, I left the bonus check and a note for Veronica. And I put up the bat signal.”

She huffs and Logan’s lips twitch. The bat signal is basically him mismatching the Women’s Accessories. He thinks it’s funny. She does not.

“What did note say?” 

He sobers, knocks back more champagne, then looks at her steadily. “Too much.” 

“And she said?” 

“Nothing. She cashed the check fine, but she’s been avoiding me ever since.” 

Didn’t he tell Mac the other day that it always comes down to money? Always being right, it’s a burden.

“No.” 

“What?” He sits up and puts the bottle down. Clearly he’s had too much to drink and misheard. Lilly is always on his side. Always.

“I’ve been studying her for three years, Logan. Veronica’s not overly emotional,” she slants him a look, “But she’s not callous. She would have let you down easy.” 

“You’ve been studying her for three years?” That’s news to him. He thought she was just trying to get him laid. Which doesn’t seem like it should be in the guardian ghost job description, but that’s Lilly for you. “Why?” 

“I like to familiarize myself with the staff.” She answers primly folding her hands in her lap. 

“Sure you do.” 

“I’m going to figure this out, Logan,” she promises. 

And Lilly keeps her promises. Always. Whether he wants her to or not.

“Knock yourself out,” he shrugs and reaches for the bottle, settling in for more champagne and wallowing. Doesn’t really matter anymore. 

“Fine, wallow.” 

He scowls and her face softens.

She rises and glides to him, and cupping his chin, she lifts his head. Her touch should be cold, but it never fails to warm him, comfort him. 

Bending she pressed her lips lightly to his forehead. “Be careful up here, my darling.” 

“I will."

* * *

**1 Day Until Christmas**

Veronica leans on her broom and appraises Santa’s former workshop. The store is open late for all those last minute shoppers, but the shop is officially closed, and once she finishes straightening up she can go home. 

That’s it. Season over.

She did it. She made it through the entire season without another Logan Echolls run-in. Or a run-in with Kendall for that matter. Bully for her.

Shaking off the melancholy, she leans the broom against the empty shelves and calls out to her boss. 

“Mrs. Navarro? I just need to put these boxes in the stock room, and then I’m done.” 

Mrs. Navarro pops out from behind the former cookies and hot chocolate dispensary. “Veronica, don’t be silly. Go home, spend time with your father, I’ve got them.” 

_What’s the delicate way of saying someone your age should not be lifting boxes?_

“Ah, I’m not seeing Dad until tomorrow, he’s working late. I can just—“

“Then go home and relax. I’ll see you next season, miha.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“Okay, thanks, Mrs. N.” 

Her sweet boss is one of the few good things to come out of this holiday nightmare. Veronica switches places with Mrs. Navarro, gathering her things from behind the register as Mrs. Navarro walks over and hauls a box up on one shoulder. 

_Huh. Stronger than she looks._

Veronica remembers the cooler and metal chairs on her way out the door and hesitates. She doubts Mrs. Navarro will think to bring them in and once the workshop closes today it’s locked up until next season. 

Knowing it will just weigh on her conscience, Veronica grips the strap of her Chanel bag and trudges up to the roof. 

Ignoring it is not worth the coal in her stocking. She has her eye on a pony _and_ a trip to Disneyland this year. She’s made that very clear. 

As predicted no one has bothered to dismantle the makeshift break room. Why she always has to clean up someone else's mess is the mystery of the decade. 

* * *

Logan leaves the main office and strides into the workshop, bringing the black cloud over his head with him, and almost bowls Mrs. Navarro over as she leaves the stockroom. 

She does a spry dodge, dropping her keys with a clatter.

He winces. Now his mood is infecting others. Scooping up the keys before she can bend down, he makes a point to infuse his words with genuine sincerity. “Sorry, Mrs. Navarro.”

“Can I help you, Mr. Echolls?” Her eyes are round with curiosity.

Logan doesn’t bother to correct her. She refuses to call her boss by his first name, and he refuses to call someone old enough to be his grandmother by hers. It’s been weeks and they are at an impasse.

“Just running up to get the cooler. If you’re done for the day I can lock up.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Echolls!” She thrusts her keys at him so fast he can scarcely blink. “My grandson is watching the kids, and I’d like to get home. He’s such a good boy.” 

To Logan’s credit, he says nothing. Just waves her off with a “Merry Christmas,” and shoves the keys in his pocket as he heads up the stairs. 

When he arrives through the doors he’s greeted by the sight of one de-elfified Veronica Mars paused in the act of shoving refreshments in her purse. 

He can’t help it, his jaw drops and he walks to her for a closer look. “Are you _stealing_?” 

“No, I’m not stealing,” she snaps, standing up. “The cooler was too heavy, and I didn’t have— You know what? It doesn’t matter. What are you doing here, Logan?” 

_What is he doing here? He owns the fucking store. Sort of. Eventually. And it’s Logan now? What happened to ‘The Invisible Man?’_

“I’m sorry, have we met?” He widens his eyes at her. “Vivian, was it?” he asks, pulling the first V name he can think of out of the sky. 

The dangerous look in her eyes tells him that it was a miscalculation. 

“That's it.” She declares and stomps towards the door. “I’m done here. Merry Christmas, jackass.” 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” He eyes her beverage-filled bag pointedly.

“You’re joking.” 

It’s petty and he doesn’t care. He juts his chin out. “Nope.” 

She fumes and wrenches the door open so hard he’s surprised the handle doesn’t come off in her hand. 

“Take it out of my check.”

He generously lets her have the last word—it’s Christmas, after all—and turns his back to begin stacking the chairs.

He’s barely lifted the first one when Veronica’s body is propelled into him. The chair crashes to the floor and he twists just in time to break her fall. 

They lie in the gravel, winded from shock. Her body is horizontal on his, and she feels so good, the missed opportunity hurts so much that he says, “I didn’t take you for the begging type.” 

She lets out a low growl and scrambles off him, practically running to the door. But this time when she yanks it open, nothing happens. 

“It’s locked.” 

He rolls his eyes, and gets up, strolling to the door. He pulls on the door with a flourish. Nothing happens. He shakes the handle. Nothing happens. 

Stepping away before he embarrasses himself, he turns to Veronica. 

“So,” he slides his hands in his pocket and leans back on his heels. “It’s locked.”

She widens her eyes, mimicking his earlier expression. “You don’t say?”

And fuck it all if it doesn’t turn him on. 

He clears his throat. “To recap for the folks at home, the door is locked.” 

“Yup.” She crosses her arms and raises her chin. 

“Phone?” His is on his desk. 

She merely points to the doors and he notices her bag is gone as well. 

He’s got a bad feeling about this. 

“Mrs. Navarro!” She exclaims, then slouches when he shakes his head. 

“I sent her home.” 

“So, we’re stuck.” 

“Yup.” 

It hits them at the same time. Laughter like bells, that heady scent of floral and sin. 

_Lilly._

* * *

_Lilly doesn’t waste time wishing for things she can’t have. What’s the point? Her rule of thumb is: If you absolutely can’t have what you want, want something else and have that. But rules are meant to be broken, and today she dearly wishes she could enjoy lounging back in a chair while munching on some popcorn, because this? This is going to be fun._

**END PART ONE**


	2. Chapter 2

“So, what now?” Veronica demands. She knows this is Logan’s fault, just  _ knows _ it. 

Logan doesn’t even glance at her; instead, he paces the roof as he searches the skies. 

“Lilly!” He shouts. “Open this door, I’m serious.” 

_ Great _ .  _ She’s stuck on the roof with a crazy person.  _ Veronica backs away slowly but knocks over a chair in the process. She freezes as it clamors to the floor and he rounds on her. 

“Hey, listen.” She holds her hands out in a quelling gesture. “Maybe she’s busy with Santa and can’t—”

“I’m not insane, Veronica,” he snaps. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He’s talking to the clouds and  _ she’s _ ridiculous? And suddenly he knows her name?  _ He’s got some nerve.  _ She drops her hands and steps towards him, finger pointing.

“I’m not the one begging a freaking ghost for help.”

“First. I don’t beg.”

The glittering look he sends her suggests that  _ he  _ could make  _ her _ beg if he were so inclined, and for one ridiculous, annoying moment her blood heats as she pictures his hands on her. 

Then he opens his mouth. 

“Second, how do you think we got stuck up here?” 

_ Right. Not hot. Crazy.  _

She shrugs. “Pure, dumb luck.”

He rubs at his temples. “Jesus, people only believe what they want to believe.” 

“Fine, let’s get her here, then. Liiilly,” she sings, spinning, arms thrown wide. “Lilly, show yourself.”

She ends by throwing her hands up with a flourish. “I command you.” 

“Stop. You look like an idiot,” he tells her, then scans the sky once more. “Plus, she likes you for whatever reason, but she’s not above hitting you.” 

His shoulders sag, and he drags his feet over to the makeshift break room. 

_ Why would the ghost like her? _

“I’ll have you know, I’m lovely,” she tells his back as he sets the fallen chair to rights.

_ Well, crap. Now she’s defending her nonexistent relationship with a figment of his imagination. _

He ignores her, sitting heavily in his seat and after a moment she pulls up a chair next to him. 

“I don’t suppose you could just relax while I think for a minute?” He lolls his head toward her. “You seem like the type that needs help relaxing.”

There it is again. A vision, quick as lighting...her body boneless, sated at his hands, collapsed on top of him as his fingers stroke down her spine.

_ That’s it, she needs off this roof. _

“I don’t suppose anyone’s expecting you?” 

“Nope.” He doesn’t even look at her this time, just slumps down in the seat, eyes closed. “What about you? Anyone to sound the alarm if you go missing?” 

“Nope.” 

Her dad really did work the morning shift, then his girlfriend Alicia and her kids are spending the day at the Mars Residence. Veronica’s okay with the new girlfriend, but she isn’t interested in family bonding, even if ‘ _ she has a son your age, Veronica. I think you could be friends.’  _ She’d told them she had plans. 

“You can’t see her anyway, you know.” Logan breaks their silence. 

“What?”

“Lilly. You can’t see her.”

_ Jesus. Is he still talking about this? _

“Right. Of  _ course _ not.” 

He works his jaw. 

“Only my immediate family can see or hear her. Great Grandpa, Grandpa, Dad, Me, and once she married my dad, Mom.”

Her damn curiosity gets the better of her.

“So your mom couldn’t see her until she got married?” 

He opens his eyes and perks up in his chair. 

“Nope. Mom’s not sure why. It’s been like that with all the wives in my family. Lilly thinks it’s because when you get married, you’re truly committed. You become family.” 

His cheeks pinken at the sentimentality, and it’s adorable. And annoying that it’s adorable. If she doesn’t get off this roof,  _ she’s  _ going to become the crazy one.

“Okay, so you’re family. Why would she stick you up here?” Veronica stifles a groan. Somehow she’s conversing as if the entire situation were normal.  _ It’s too late. All aboard the crazy train, next stop… nowhere. Because they’re stuck on a freaking roof.  _

Logan just shrugs. “She’s playing matchmaker.”

Veronica snorts.  _ As if.  _

Arching a look at her, Logan continues. 

“ _ Anyway,  _ my guess is, she’ll open the door if we bore her into it. I suggest we sit here and try to be as bland as possible.”

Sit here. With him. For possibly hours. That’s not going to work for her. 

“You have to give me more than that. I can’t just sit still hoping Slimer shows up.” 

A bug or something flicks at her ear, and Veronica frowns as she waves it away. 

Logan smirks. 

“Think about it. When she has strong reactions, sometimes people will catch a glimmer of her. You haven't heard a laugh you can’t explain? Smelled her perfume?”

Veronica looks away from Logan’s acute gaze. She’s heard the champagne laugh so often it haunts her dreams. She changed her shampoo three times and she still smells…

She looks back at him. “Gardenias and…” 

“Sandalwood,” he confirms, triumphant. “If you spend a lot of time in the store you might see her do something, move something. Same if you spend a lot of time at my house.” 

He sends her a sly look.

“Fat chance, Buddy.” 

“Worth a shot.” He smirks. “Anyway, if you acknowledge her, you might see even more. She does like attention. Which is why we have to sit here and do nothing.”

He cocks a brow at her. 

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” 

_ Christ, he’s smug _ . She can sit still as well as anyone. She’ll just mentally recite the felonies. 

* * *

_ Lilly folds her arms and scowls down at her two idiots. She planned a romantic day for them, and all they’re doing is talking about her. A worthy subject, of course, but she knows how these things go.  _

_ It starts with ‘Lilly’s real’ and quickly transcends into how fabulous she is. They're supposed to be focused on each other.  _

_ If she materializes in front of Logan he’ll just yell at her…. She’ll have to give them a little nudge in the right direction. Her work is never done.  _

* * *

Logan rhythmically flicks the tail of his leather watch strap with his thumbnail and sighs. It’s not easy being bland. They seem to have run out of things they’re willing to talk to each other about and he’s getting bored. In the movies, stretches of time pass with a well-sequenced montage that leads to a big moment. In real life, it’s excruciatingly mind-numbing. 

He’s considering doing something drastic to mix it up when a loud crash comes from behind the mechanical fan. 

Logan and Veronica startle and she folds her arms, arching a pointed look at him. 

“No, no, don’t get up. I’ll see what’s going on,” he says, with mock generosity. 

The corner of her mouth tips up before she schools her features into wide-eyed seriousness.

“I was raised to believe that women have the babies and men do the ghost hunting.”

He gives her a curt nod, holding his grin until his back is to her. 

She’s funny. He hates that she’s funny. And smart. And beautiful. 

_ And not interested _ , he reminds himself as he rounds the fan. 

He stops short to stare at six neatly stacked, perfectly square boxes.

“Lilly,” he mutters low enough so the sound doesn’t carry. “What are you up to?” 

An answering whisper in his ear, “It’s for your own good, my darling.” There and gone so he’s not sure if she’s still here.

Resigned, he hauls a box and walks back to Veronica, who peers at it with avid curiosity. 

“There are five more if you want to help.” 

She hops off her chair and moves quickly behind the mechanical fan.

When the boxes are laid out, they stand staring at the neat row. 

“I’m a little afraid,” Veronica confesses. 

“You should be.” It could be anything from books to pass the time to a blowup doll.  _ But at least it will be entertaining.  _

He kneels down and rips the tape off the first box. 

Inside he finds two Lennox champagne flutes, still in their packing, and half his father's stash of champagne. 

“Nice!” He holds a bottle up and wags it at her.

Veronica gives the bubbly an impassive look, then kneels down next to him to open the next box. 

Shrugging, he puts the bottle back. 

“Look!” She eagerly grabs his hand, urging him him over to view her treasure.

Her eyes are sparkling in sheer delight, and his entire body goes numb save for her small hand in his. He fucking hates this. That little nagging feeling that this matters, that  _ she _ could matter. As usual, he pushes down the instinct and looks inside the box.

He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but it’s not an array of packaged cheeses, cured meats, and fruit jams. 

“Charcuterie? And…” he takes stock again. “Popcorn?”

“Do you know what that means?” 

His heart turns at the beaming expression on her face. Yeah, he knows what it means. It means he’s never met anyone more excited by cheese than two hundred dollar bottles of champagne. It means her voice is throaty with excitement and he wants her—with him, under him. It means he has the irrational certainty that he  _ needs  _ her. 

_ Fuck it. _

It means he’s never been good at running— even when he should—and that he’s going to trust Lilly when she says he misunderstood. 

At the same time Veronica squeals, “It means Lilly’s going to feed us!” he blurts out, “What did I do, Veronica?” 

She sobers immediately, snatching her hand away. “What?”

“What did I do?” He repeats, not bothering to acknowledge Veronica’s sudden acceptance of Lilly. 

“What did I write that was so wrong? Can you just tell me so that I can explain?”

“Explain.” She brushes her hair behind her ear with a harsh laugh. “That’s okay, Logan. I really don’t need the details.” 

Scooting away, she begins unpacking the food with succinct motions, while Logan sits back on his heels, frowning at her. 

He’s trying, but maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he was too honest and scared her away. Or maybe she doesn’t want to deal with the bullshit in his life. 

Veronica removes a small folding patio table from the bottom of the food box, and hesitates. Laying it down she clasps her hands in her lap and frowns right back at him. 

“What do you mean ‘write’?”

“What?” He blinks. 

“Write.” She echoes sharply. “You said ‘what did I _ write  _ that was so wrong’? What are you talking about?”

At that moment, Lilly excitedly shimmers into existence over Veronica’s left shoulder. Logan swings his gaze up to her, noting her wide eyes fastened on Veronica with fervent interest. Lilly notices Logan’s attention and her red lips form a silent “oops” before she pops out of sight. Though he doubts she’s far. 

“You know what?” Veronica stands, dusting the gravel off her pants. “Forget it. I’m not interested in whatever game you and Kendall are playing.”

With that she bends to pick up the folding table, carrying it over to the chairs. 

_ Games? Kendall?  _

He stares stupidly at her as she sets up the table, and sits in a chair facing away from him, until he gets a swift kick to the ribs. 

“Ouch, Lilly!” He complains under his breath. “That fucking hurt.” 

He hears “idiot” in his ear as he pushes off the floor, scooping some of the cheeses while he rises.  _ Veronica’s fond of the cheese.  _

He walks over to the break area and stands in front of her, placing his yellow peace offerings on the table, then scratching the back of his neck. 

“So, listen, if Kendall was a bitch to you, I’m sorry about that. I gave her clear instructions to hand you the envelope with minimal talking, but it’s hard to find good help these days.” 

He sends her a boyish grin, resisting the urge to pull at his collar. 

Veronica studies him so intently he feels like a bug under a magnifying glass. He rushes to fill the silence before he gets scorched. 

“And um, I’m sorry if my note got too personal.” He stretches a hand out between them. “Bygones?” 

She looks at his hand, then tilts her head up at him in consternation. 

“What note?”

A crystal clear shriek rings through the air and one look tells him even Veronica heard it. A violent gust of wind kicks gravel up around them, and Veronica gasps, scrambling out of the chair to stand next to him. 

He grabs her hand and pulls her into the shelter of his body, wrapping his arms around her, because… why the hell not?  _ He _ knows Lilly won’t hurt them, but Veronica doesn’t. And two beautiful words (“ _ what note” _ ) pretty much have  _ the hills are alive _ playing on repeat in his head.

They watch in awe as the remaining boxes tear open one by one, and the contents spill out. Veronica grips at his arms around her waist, and he snuggles her closer, trying to infuse warmth back into her skin.

Then Lilly blinks into his view, looks him in the eye and orders, “Handle this! I have someone to take care of,” before popping away.

* * *

_ Lilly leaves them, trusting Logan to follow up properly, and blows through the store looking for the conniving, gold digging, trollop who’s ruining all her plans. _

_ As a rule, Lilly has no problem with gold diggers, as long as they’re not aiming at her, but to be so obvious about it is a bit too gauche for her standards. She should have taken care of Kendall when she first came on to Logan.  _

_ But, if Lilly got rid of every woman who came on to Logan the store would be empty, the Echolls family would have no staff. So she’d let it be, knowing Logan wouldn't touch his father’s leftovers with a ten-foot pole.  _

_ Her mistake. She won’t make it again.  _

* * *

Veronica Mars isn’t thrown by much. Her dad was a cop before he took a job as head of security for Kane Software. Keith taught her how to keep her head and go for help; then he taught her how to fight dirty. She’s had a taser since she was thirteen and a gun license since she was eighteen. 

She’s faced down bullying classmates, assholes in bars, and—in one unfortunate incident she will never,  _ ever _ tell her father about—an armed mugger. And each time she’s had a weapon in hand and a quip on her lips. 

But now, as she stares at the open boxes in front of her, for the first time in her life, Veronica’s mind is curiously blank. All she can seem to process is that somehow, Logan has become her anchor. Without him to hold on to, her control would collapse. 

“Veronica? Veronica are you okay?”

It echoes through her brain, shakes her out of her stupor. Sensation returns to her body, seeping through her fog of shock. The icy pins and needles that race across her flesh are banked by the warmth at her back, his arms around her waist burning her through her clothes, spreading heat back into her. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what happened, and they’ve got some things to talk about—-mysterious notes and bitchy assistants—but first, Veronica calls up the same moxie that, when she realized her mugger was just a kid younger than her, caused her to forego the gun and talk him down. 

She takes a breath, annoyed when it shudders out, and gives herself another moment to make sure her voice will be absolutely steady, perfectly dry when she says, “Who you gonna call?”

Veronica’s rewarded when he snorts and her body shakes from his laughter; the knots in her shoulders ease. 

_She can do this._ _She ain’t afraid of no ghost._ And at least she’s more confident that they’ll get off the roof at some point, even if it’s by less than conventional means.

Pulling away from him, she ignores the immediate chill, and rubs her palms on the sides of her jeans. 

“Let’s see what we’ve got.” 

Logan follows as she strides over to the mess and focuses on the items before them. 

This time she can’t control the nerves in her voice. “Logan, there are camping lanterns here.”

“I see that.” 

_What he doesn’t seem to see is the gravity of the situation._

“The last time I checked it was eleven-thirty.”

“That tracks.” 

“In the morning. Eleven thirty in the  _ morning _ . The sun sets at five. Does she...does she think we’ll still be here by then?”

“Well, she did mention that you’re stubborn.” He picks up the lanterns and brings them over to the table, a little bounce in his step. 

_ Why is that cute?  _

She shakes it off and surveys the next overturned box. She can only focus on one thing at a time. Cute boys later. Figuring out how to survive captivity now.

“Hey.” She walks over to him. “I don’t get some of this stuff. Why would she give us these sherpa comforters? It’s seventy degrees out.”

“I’d guess to make the floor more comfortable.”

He controls a laugh and runs a hand through his hair and she’s momentarily distracted by his bicep. 

“Um…”  _ Get it together, Mars. _ “But we have chairs.” 

He scans her face and appears to appreciate what he finds there, because his expression softens, then he smiles wolfishly. “It’s not for  _ sitting.”  _

“Then what...oh.”  _ OH _ . She quickly shoves the blankets back in the box and a package of condoms rolls out. 

Chuckling as her face turns red he crosses back over to her. They seem to have a tacit agreement to keep things light until they get settled, but she may have to punch him. 

He squeezes her shoulder as he passes, the gesture friendly and reassuring, then bends down to pack away the blankets and condoms without comment.

_ Fine, no punching.  _

She skirts around him, kneels down to take inventory of the rest of the stuff. There are bottles of water, a complete wardrobe change for herself and Logan. Veronica can sort of see the logic in it, what if they get dirty, but she’s a little insulted at the inclusion of new shoes.  _ There’s nothing wrong with combat boots, thank you very much _ . 

She also finds a guitar.

“Hey, do you play guitar?” She calls to Logan, who has liberated the food from their ‘gifts’ and is unwrapping their meal at the table. He must have found cutlery and plates somewhere.

“Not even a little.”

Pillows. 

“Want a pillow for your chair?”

“Nope.”

She shrugs and sets them aside.

Silk pajamas. She stuffs those away before he can see. 

A new lipstick. She considers the pinkish red, then pockets it.  _ It’s a good color.  _

And a deck of cards. 

“We have cards!” 

“Strip poker.” 

“Dream on.” 

He just smiles at her like his heart grew three sizes and gestures her over. “Come, eat.” 

_ Goddamnit, he’s adorable _ . Way more adorable now that she’s not looking at him through a veil of Kendall. And he’s feeding her. 

It’s cynical girl kryptonite. If he pulls chocolate out of thin air she might have to marry him. 

Her stomach growls and she hastily takes her seat at the table. 

He imitates a sommelier, arm cocked at a right angle, and pours two glasses of champagne. 

Veronica bites her lip and preps herself for her favorite conversation.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink.” 

He looks gobsmacked. “Like, ever?” 

“My mother drinks. I do not.” 

Years of trial and error have proven this to be the most effective method of refusal. It’s the truth, and just honest enough that no one pushes the issue; but too personal for follow up questions. 

She waits for the awkward moment that always follows her announcement, but he surprises her by nodding and tossing the fancy champagne out of the glasses without a care, then he refills them from a bottle of water he stashed under his chair. 

Oddly, the move reminds her that he’s extremely wealthy. 

Logan sits across from her and his gaze is strong, understanding, without judgement. 

“Want to talk about it? I’d understand.” 

And it reminds her that even wealthy people have problems. Perversely, she finds she likes him more because of it. So, she deflects. 

“Sounds like fun.” She snags a handful of popcorn and shoves it into her mouth. “We could relive my parents’ divorce.” 

He leans back, silently agreeing to break the seriousness of the moment. “We could. I’m a good listener.” 

She thinks again. “Or we could take a trip to the dentist.” 

“Would you have to open real wide?” He exaggerates a wink.

“Visit a gynecologist.” She volleys. 

“Is everything okay down there?” He wags his eyebrows. “I could check.” 

“Gross.” 

He turns those eyes on her again, and it’s like a switch flipped on behind them and they’re,  _ God help her, _ smoldering. 

“It wouldn’t be.” He promises.

Grinch grins, witty comebacks, stupid hot looks. Long distance and misunderstandings. How is she supposed to navigate this? Somehow her life has officially turned into a romance novel. A supernatural romance novel.

_ She’s in so much fucking trouble.  _

Taking a deep breath, she throws caution to the wind. 

“So… you said something about a note?”

* * *

_ Lilly’s enters the main office and she goes about preparing. Once she’s satisfied, she hovers, waiting for Kendall’s return from lunch. She considers checking in on her charges, but hopefully they’re making use of the blankets by now. _

_ At the last minute, Lilly relocates a sharpie and a stack of business cards. She may not possess the precision necessary to write messages, but she's certain she has enough abilities to get her point across.  _

_ When the office door clicks open, Lilly rubs her hands together in glee. Let the fun begin. _

* * *

“If your dad works for the Kane’s, why not move to Neptune?” Logan combs his fingers through Veronica’s, grateful for Lilly’s forethought with the thick blankets as they lie shoulder-to-shoulder staring at the sky. “We could have met sooner.” 

Veronica’s hand stiffens in his, then she sighs and resumes their finger play. “My mom is the one who found the job in Neptune—she’d heard about it from a friend—and Dad thought it would be a better lifestyle for her, us, than LA. But when it came time to find a house, Mom freaked and refused to move back to her hometown. It was really weird.”

“Did you—“

She reaches over and covers his mouth with her free hand. “Nope! My turn!” 

Logan licks her palm and she squeals, freeing him to wipe her hand on the blanket, but he doesn’t pick up his questioning. He expected the deflection. Plus, Veronica  _ loves _ her turn. Her face lights up, her eyes sparkle as she digs for information. He’d happily let her grill him for twenty minutes, about anything.

“What was in the note?”

Except that. 

“Not gonna happen,” he replies firmly.

She’s asked at almost every turn, and he hasn’t given up one hint. Sure, they talked about the note’s existence, the Kendall of it all, and which ‘Mr. Echolls’ was actually dispensing jewelry, but Logan noticed that while Veronica was dogged in her questioning, she shied away when things got too serious.

He can’t tell if it’s because they’re virtual strangers or if she doesn’t handle emotions well, but he’s not taking the risk of scaring her away before he finds out. Annoying her is also a bonus. She’s so cute when she’s angry. 

“Fine.” Veronica grumbles in a way that tells him she’ll be asking again. “Um…worst date?”

Careful not to let go of her hand, he props himself up on his elbows to peer down into her face. 

“Is this a good idea? Should we be talking about exes?”

“As long as the answer’s still ‘I’ve never dated, slept with, or looked at Kendall,’ we’re good.” 

In any other case he’d own up to the  _ looking _ —it’s hard not to look when it’s all just right there—but Veronica doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate that sort of honesty.

“Never. That’s my father’s mess to deal with. But...” He changes his reassuring expression to his best leer. “There are other things we could do that would be more fun than 20 Questions.” 

Shoving at his shoulder, Veronica laughs, “Don’t push your luck, Buddy.” 

They’ve been talking for hours and he’s pretty sure he can’t get any luckier. Charcuterie and confessions: good for the soul.  _ Who knew? _

He flops back down with a grin and—pillowing his hands behind his head—begins detailing one of his more disastrous dates. As he winds down his tale, he smells Lilly before he sees her. 

“I told you that girl wasn’t worthy.” Lilly materializes above them, smirking at the blanket. Then she takes in their fully clothed state and she shakes her head in disappointment. 

_ Lilly, his personal, inappropriate guardian angel.  _ He’d met Madison in the store and Lilly wholeheartedly did not approve. 

“And Veronica is?”  _ He _ thinks so but doesn’t understand why Lilly’s pushing this so hard.

“She’s back?” Veronica shoots up into a seated position, scanning the roof blindly. “Is she talking about me? Tell her—” 

“She can hear you. And she’s there.” Sitting up, he points. 

Logan watches in amusement as his tiny warrior elf’s eyes narrow at the space he indicated. She focuses too low, speaking into Lilly’s cleavage.

“Lilly, let us off this roof. And when we’re free, I'm going to ruin your life...afterlife.” She slides a considering gaze over to Logan, a smile pulling at her lips. “Or possibly thank you.”

“Doesn’t she remind you of anyone, my darling?” 

Logan tears his gaze away from Veronica. Lilly indicates herself with a sweeping gesture then bobs a curtsy. 

“Lilly, please. Just open the door.” 

Tossing her hair, Lilly raises her chin. “How do I know she’s not just faking?” 

_ Seriously?  _ “Don’t you have deadly intuition or something?”

The women reply at the same time.

“Very funny, my darling.” 

“What’s Lilly saying?”

Logan looks between them, then buries his face in his hands. 

“Logan!” They chorus, causing his shoulders to shake with laughter.

_ He’s in so much fucking trouble.  _

Raising his head, he informs Veronica, “She thinks you’re faking it.” 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Enough of this.” Veronica launches herself at him, knocking him flat on his back, fusing her mouth to his. 

Eventually, Lilly’s joyous giggle reaches him, and he forces himself to pull away. Veronica’s forehead rests on his chin. 

“Lilly,” he begs.

_ Okay, so sometimes he begs. _

Radiating delight, Lilly pops away and a second later the roof door swings open. 

Veronica looks steadily at him. “Let’s find someplace dark and lonely to go.” 

* * *

_ Her babies race down the stairs like kids on Christmas morning and Lilly follows their progress with a benevolent smile. Logan skips ahead of Veronica.  _

_ “My place?” He asks as he swings her down the last step.  _

_ “Ghosts.” She reminds him, breathless.  _

_ Lilly pouts. It’s slightly mollifying to see that they’re too wrapped up in each other to bother locking the shop before stepping on the escalator. Proof that she was right, as usual. Still, they should be  _ _ thanking _ _ her.  _

_ “Your place?”  _

_ Veronica shakes her head. “Family gathering.”  _

_ “Hotel?” He offers. Lilly laughs to herself as his expression becomes cherub-like.  _

_ Veronica arches a brow at him. “A little too dark and lonely for a first date. Restaurant?” _

_ “Well, can we at least take the back streets?” _

_ Logan pokes out his lower lip, and Lilly has a brief flash of the six-year-old she fell in love with, her darling boy.  _

_ “Merry Christmas, Logan,” she whispers and fades away.  _

_ For now.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MKT's punishment for Kendall was too devious to fit in this chapter and I think it needs to be from Kendall's POV, so it will be a supplemental chapter.
> 
> As always, thank you to AmyPC, Chickabiddy, and CubbieGirl1723


	3. Chapter 3

Six Years Later

Veronica glares at the tiled floor as her heels echo down the hall. She's been living in this monstrosity Logan calls a house for five years now and she still can't get used to it, but Lilly is here, so she forebears.

Making a sharp right towards the staircase, and precious peace after a long work day, Veronica catches sight of Logan through the opening of his first floor office door. Without breaking stride, she grips her latest Chanel tote bag and veers off course to see what he's up to.

_Nosy, curiosity. Potato, potahto._

She peeks her head through the door. "Whatcha doing?"

"Trying not to tear my hair out." Logan looks up from the paper he's clutching. "Have you met this one?"

Dropping her bag on the burgundy suede love seat, she pads across the slate carpet to take the resume he's holding out. Scanning it quickly, she hands it back to him. "Yes."

"And?"

"No."

He bangs his head lightly on the desk. "Why not?" he says into the mahogany. "She's qualified."

Smiling a bit at his dramatics, she replies. "It took one interview for me to know Madison Sinclair's a bitch. Didn't you go to high school with her? You'll end up strangling the idiot and I don't think I'm qualified to get you off of murder charges."

He simply groans, then looks up at her with pleading eyes. He's been trying to find a VP of Human Resources for three weeks, and it's taking its toll. It is a truth universally acknowledged, that an Echolls in possession of an open job position must be in want of a wife. The sheer volume of female applicants has been mind boggling.

"Aww, poor baby." Rounding the desk, she scoots his chair out and fits herself across his lap, placing a small kiss on his forehead.

"Veronica, come work for me—" she arches her brow. "Us," he corrects.

 _Better._ She may be the founder and owner of Mars Executive Search Firm, Neptune's hottest new startup according to the press ( _thank you very much_ ), but she is also a shareholder in Echolls Department Store.

It took her years after Aaron's shocking death by pumpkin carver (disguised as a nurse of all things) to save enough. Lynn had surprised them with her business acumen and Veronica with her determination to give Veronica a piece of the Echolls empire. At the time, she'd been suspicious, but now she suspects Lilly, though Lynn won't say a word either way. What Lynn _had_ done was wait, holding the wolves at bay, until Veronica had saved enough to buy the shares Lynn had received upon her marriage to Aaron.

Luckily, Veronica found she had a knack for investing, always seeming to pick up the right tidbit of information at the right time. She's made enough profits to start her own headhunting firm, and she's damned proud of herself. And happy with her life.

"I already have a job," she reminds him. "You could hire my firm." She adds a peck on the cheek, creeping her arms around his neck, ready to change the subject. The stubborn ass refuses to hire her firm, and she refuses to work for Echolls Department Store.

The distraction works, to a point. Logan snakes his arms around her waist, but whispers in her ear, "Think of the benefits," then fastens his mouth to her neck. _So_ _very_ happy with her life.

Tonguing her rapidly increasing pulse point, he murmurs against her skin, "Long lunches."

"Late nights." He tugs her very sensible blouse out of her all-business slacks, and coaxes her legs to straddle him. With a shuddering breath, Veronica leans against the desk, letting her body relax, become pliant to his will.

"Really, really late nights." As he slips the first button through its silk fastening, she licks her lips, watching him through hooded eyes.

A loud crash startles them both. Peering to her left, Veronica sees the resumes have crashed into the trash can next to them.

_Lilly._

Veronica looks around, but of course she doesn't see anything.

"Lilly!" she yells over Logan's laughter. "Get out of here!"

"To be fair, you did only ban her from the bedroom."

"You think this is funny?" She makes sure her voice is vaguely threatening and he sobers immediately.

"No, dear."

"I have something for you anyway."

He leans forward eagerly, then pouts when she hops off him to cross the room, closing her blouse on the way.

Digging through her tote, Veronica pauses at the bridal magazines stuffed inside, then bypasses them, removing the file folder she'd shoved in there before she left for home.

Coming up behind her, Logan encircles her hips and rests his chin on her shoulder. Veronica flips the folder open for him to read over her shoulder.

"Jackie?" Surprise colors his tone.

With a sigh, Veronica lays her head back on his chest and he kisses her temple in one of those automatic gestures of affection that never fails to thrill her.

"Yeah. She's looking for a change now that Alex is starting high school. And with the baby on the way she doesn't want to be a partner at the agency. At Echolls', she'd have a short commute, better hours."

"You're sure?"

_She hates it, she'll miss the hell out of her friend, but she's sure._

"Yeah, give her a call. I told her before we left the office that you'd send her the official offer letter on Monday."

"Veronica!"

Feigning ignorance at his response, she turns in his arms. "Yes, love of my life?" For good measure, she kisses the exasperated look off his face.

A dreamy sigh interrupts them.

"Go," Veronica pushes him lightly. "Call Jackie. Lilly and I need to discuss boundaries. Again."

Hooking a finger in the V of her blouse, he brings her flush against him. "Okay, but we're getting back to this after."

"Yeah, we are." She exaggerates a wink.

When he leaves, pulling out his cell phone and muttering about boundaries, Veronica carries her purse over, placing it on the desk next to the trash.

As much as she longs to, Veronica still can't hear or see Lilly, but they've figured out other ways to communicate.

One by one Veronica dumps the bridal magazines from her purse into the garbage. They hit the metal bin with an audible _clank_.

"I am not." _Clank_.

"Getting." _Clank._

"Married." _Clank_.

"Ever." _Clank._

Veronica crosses her arms and juts out her chin.

And is promptly slapped on the arm with the framed picture of herself and Logan that Logan keeps on his desk. _Christ, she hadn't even seen Lilly lift it._

Taking a breath, Veronica reins in her temper.

She crosses back to the couch and rubs the tingling spot on her arm as she sits. She stares at the wood paneling on the opposite wall and speaks quietly to the room. "I get that you love him. I love him, too. You _know_ I do. But I can't… I'm not getting married, Lilly."

Marriage ruins everything. It makes people feel trapped, and then they leave. She thinks their relationship works because they don't place that pressure on each other, but they haven't talked about it in years and...

"Is he mad?" Her voice is smaller than she'd like, and she clears her throat, focusing harder on the wall.

The photograph that had previously attacked her lands gently in her lap. Examining it, Veronica's traces their faces with a navy lacquered nail. _Look at them._ Two people completely wrapped up in each other. It's from last New Year's Eve, but it could be any one of a thousand pictures of them. He gazes down at her like he can't believe she's real, and she has a possessive hand on his knee, face tipped up radiating happiness.

 _In six years those looks haven't changed.._ Veronica's back goes ramrod straight.

She loves him, and she's never leaving. She already knew that. But she just realized, neither is he, she won't let him. If he tried, she would track his ass down and drag him back, every time. Because after six years, he still gazes down at her like he can't believe she's real, and she still radiates happiness.

She still doesn't think she wants a ring… but this, this is forever. Smiling she looks up. And lets out a blood curdling scream.

* * *

"Jackie, you can start whenever you want. Why don't you take some vacation and—"

Veronica's chilling scream rips through the hall and, dropping the phone, Logan takes off at a dead run. He skids into the office, sweeping the room for danger. Seeing nothing but a wide-eyed Veronica standing in front of the couch and an open mouthed Lilly floating in front of her, he lets himself breath.

"What the fuck, Veronica? You scared the shit out of me."

"You didn't tell me Lilly was hot!" She accuses, then looks surprised at herself with her opening statement.

"What?" He frowns at her. "You've seen pictures of her." Of course those pictures were black and white, grainy, and in no way captures the— _holy shit!_ "You can see her?"

"Oh good, you're catching up."

"You're hilarious. Veronica, how can you see her?"

_Did they get married when he wasn't looking? He wouldn't put it past her to figure out how to do that._

"I don't know, she was just…" Veronica gestures vaguely at the now-amused spirit, "there."

"She's always 'there.' What _happened_?"

"It's because she looooves you," Lilly singsongs.

_Oh, really?_

"Does she now?" He asks, unable to keep the smugness from his tone.

She just told him so earlier today, but cynical Veronica Mars loves Logan Echolls so much that she can see his guardian angel? _This must be what people who win the lottery feel like._

Veronica turns red as a tomato. "Shut up, Lilly."

"No, it's true. You're family now." Lilly insists, then her face turns somber. "Which means my work here is done."

Logan's lighthearted mood comes crashing to a halt. _No, it's too soon. He still needs her._

As if she can read his mind, Lilly floats over to him. Ghosting a thumb across his cheek, she whispers, "You're going to be okay now, my darling."

Logan nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. _She's been holding on for him, she deserves peace._

Lilly slowly begins to fade and he blindly reaches for Veronica's hand, clutching it in a vice-like grip. "Goodbye, Lilly. I lov—"

"Just kidding!" Lilly laughs gaily, materializing brighter and more solid-looking than he's ever seen her. "Did you think it would be that easy, my darlings? Now that she can see me," Lilly points at Veronica with her chin, "things are going to get so much more interesting around here."

She claps her hands together with delight.

_He's going to kill her._

Veronica lets out a strangled laugh and, still clinging to Logan's hand, suggests aside to him, "We could move."

He makes a show of thinking it over.

Lilly squawks in outrage. "You wouldn't dare!"

Relenting, he assures her, "We wouldn't."

"We have so much to talk about." Veronica grins at Lilly.

Beaming back, Lilly replies, "Where should we start?"

Veronica lets go of his hand and sits on the couch, curling her legs under her, settling in for...what? A ghostly sleepover? _This can't be good_.

Forgotten, Logan shakes his head and observes his two favorite people.

"The beginning?" Veronica suggests. "Why me?"

"Because you're just as fabulous as I am, Veronica Mars."

With an expression of embarrassment and pride, she moves on. "My favorite messenger bag?"

"It was ugly, Veronica. It had to go."

Veronica grumbles, then perks up. "Hey! Were you helping out Jackie when she worked at the store?"

"Just a bit." Lilly demurs. "You should bring her over more often, I like her."

Veronica pauses. "What happened to Kendall?"

Logan listens carefully. He's curious about the answer to that question himself.

"Oh, that's a delicious tale for another day. We have all the time in the world." Lilly glides down next to Veronica on the couch.

The women giggle, talking in whispers now, and Logan hears his name drift back to him.

_He's in so much fucking trouble._

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To my lovely, MKT - it is finished! Kendall's story will be a companion piece as I did not want her presence to sully this fic haha :)
> 
> Thank you, Thank you, Thank you to CubbieGirl1723, Chikabiddy, and AmyPC for their stellar beta work and cheer leading. And many thanks to the lovely Irma66 for stepping in with a magical read when I made some last minute changes.

**Author's Note:**

> End Note:  
> Stay tuned for part 2: LoVe on roof, courtship, and Lilly’s Revenge. Will LoVe get together before Veronica has to go back to Stanford? ((Spoiler alert: Yes!))
> 
> As an additional Christmas present, MKT gets to make the final decision on what Lilly does to Kendall. What will she choose?? 
> 
> AmyPC, Chikabiddy, and CubbieGir1723: My proven beta team, I’m not sure I could write without you guys! My friends, you are the gold standard and I love you ❤️ 
> 
> Special thanks to:  
> Irma66 - for unsticking me when I got stuck, and for reminding me that chapters exist and not everything is a one shot.
> 
> JMazzy - thank you for your cheerleading, inspiring me with your playlists, and my cover— it’s beautiful!


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